


smooth and smudge

by CapriciousCrab



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M, thoughts on aging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22167412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapriciousCrab/pseuds/CapriciousCrab
Summary: Phil posts a selfie
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 89





	smooth and smudge

He regrets it almost as soon as it's posted.

Standing in front of the mirror, under the unforgiving lights in this bathroom that he hates, he stares at his reflection critically. He doesn't usually give much thought to his appearance, content with his simple skincare routine and ongoing efforts to style his quiff. It's been cut too short again, but old habits die hard, leaving him clinging to the familiarity of shaved sides and the shorter length even as he dips his toes into the still undecided waters of chocolate brown hair dye.

He'd worn it longer on tour. Tall and jet-black, it had felt playful and carefree in a way that had mirrored his mood. Each day a new city, every night a new venue. It was exhausting, but it was fun and exciting and he’d been filled with a sense of purpose. Standing here now in this ratty old tee and the Game of Thrones pyjama pants that he had knicked from Dan, he doesn't know if what he feels is exhaustion or something else.

He doesn't have a reason to feel exhausted. The liminal time between Christmas and New Year's Eve had been relaxed and low-key, spent wandering the Isle and eating too many cakes as he basked in the comforting tradition of the week with his family. Even the pang of missing Dan during that week was old and familiar, the nostalgic ache as sweet as it was bitter. 

Maybe it's bitterness he feels as he stares at himself in the mirror. He raises his eyebrows and watches the skin on his forehead crease into lines that seem to etch ever deeper every day. They fan out from the corners of his eyes and carve tiny grooves alongside his mouth when he smiles. He should be glad that they're smile lines; he's had a lot to smile about lately and he's grateful for it. But when he pushes back his quiff and notes the steady retreat of his hairline he doesn't feel much like smiling. 

Because each line left is a reminder of the time that has passed. Each wrinkle etched into his skin yet another malicious poke at the ever-growing mental list of things he hopes to accomplish before his time inevitably runs out. A new millimeter of forehead gained with each " _have you thought about marriage yet, dear?_ " and " _children need young parents, darling_." 

He could say he was just playing with filters, as he so often does now. They're fun and silly and all the things he likes best about the lighter side of social media. And if they smoothed the texture of his skin a bit, well who was he to complain? 

But he'd gone a bit further this time in editing his selfie; doing more than just basic adjusting and cropping and brightening. He'd looked at those lines on his face and impulsively blurred them out, erasing pixels one by one until his skin was as smooth as the waxworks at Madame Tussauds. After all, who would notice? So he'd posted it and then felt the fool for it.

Because someone _had_ noticed. Of course they would, he thinks bitterly because he _is_ bitter now. Someone always notices everything and wasn't that what he and Dan had been trying to avoid, stepping back so they could live with fewer eyes waiting to count the lines on Phil's face or wonder if he's going bald at the age of thirty-two? 

He turns on the tap and splashes cool water over his face, letting it soothe the heat in his cheeks. He could spiral down into this, let himself twist deeper into his fear of growing old and of death and of time slipping through his fingers. He's done it before, working himself into sweaty bouts of panic before birthdays and weddings and other milestones of adulthood that seem so near yet still so far away. 

He turns off the tap and blots the moisture from his face. Sounds from the kitchen filter up now, the clanking of pans on the hob as soothing as they are familiar. Dan has music playing; something Phil doesn't recognize but Dan is singing along to, his falsetto as piercing as it ever is and it makes the tightness in Phil's chest ease and loosen. These are sounds that he's heard hundreds of nights before, sounds that he'll hear hundreds of nights into the future. The things he loves most; the sounds of Dan and of home.

"Phil! If we're not ordering takeaway then get your ass down here and help me cook this shit."

A helpless smile tugs at his lips as he turns to hang up the towel. He catches his reflection and looks once more at the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the smile lines beside his grin.

"Coming!" He calls down the stairs, flipping the lights off as he goes.

He's not going to spiral, not tonight. They still have plenty of time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can like or reblog [here](https://capriciouscrab.tumblr.com/post/190132358595/smooth-and-smudge-rating-t-words-800-summary)


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